


HOME

by itsblackness



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Absent Parents, Boyfriends, Friendship, Inspired by Call Me By Your Name, Literature, Love/Hate, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2019-10-23 13:51:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsblackness/pseuds/itsblackness
Summary: "There is something that screams in him, I can see him from here while he observes me with the bluest and lethal eyes I have ever seen while smoking his usual cigarette. I know who he is, and yet I can't understand how he can be so externally perfect and surrounded by frivolities and at the same time so enigmatic and mysterious.""I don't know exactly what it is that kept me glued to him as if I was a special post it unable to remove myself from the first moment: I realized that although we lived two completely different realities he was more like me than he wanted to admit, it could be because his impetuous character reminded me so much of Darcy of "Pride and Prejudice" and God only knows how many times I read that book, or maybe it could be simply because sometimes destiny reserves us something special and I, Elio Perlman, I never imagined that this something special would have been the irreverent, frivolous, arrogant and enigmatic Oliver Philips."Cover: artwork by @haxneul on Instagram edited by me.This FF has nothing to do with Call me by your name, from which I only took the characters (for Oliver I had to invent the last name).For any info and question I'm here.





	1. Prologue

If one could associate an object to Elio Perlman, it would certainly be a book: reading and literature have always been his greatest passion since childhood, books have always acted as a substitute for any friend who was missing in his life, silent but present, precious, source of any kind of culture to which he has always been passionate, his way to escape from a reality too raw that has never really abandoned him, not even in dreams.  
He has never been rich or wealthy, never been surrounded by friends or filled with gifts and frivolities, never been filled with affection and family love and all that has done nothing but help him to close more in himself until one day the shy, insecure and completely awkward Elio, immediately after the dipoma decides to run away from home with the few savings put aside, his little backpack on his shoulder with his few belongings, his favorite books and the hope of being able to feel somewhere finally home.

If you could instead associate an object to Oliver Philips that would certainly be a diamond, or at least that's what everyone would say looking at him even once: richly disgustingly far-fetched, beautiful, but one of an unacceptable beauty, one of those that takes away the breath for several minutes and makes you forget who you are, surrounded by friends, girls and boys as many as would be enough to form a football team and as if this were not enough, incredibly and absolutely enigmatic.  
The tormented and tempting aura he carries with him is practically untouchable, and perhaps it is that aura that attracts anyone in his presence, he is absolutely mad and at the same time so reserved and gloomy: a mystery, an enigma.

But who is Oliver really and what is he hiding?  
What does Oliver think about when he decides to leave completely alone after graduation?  
Maybe he leaves for fun, or maybe he leaves because he needs it, he leaves because he does not want to admit that he is looking for a place to call "home".

The streets of Elio and Oliver had already met several times in high school: in the corridors, on the stairs, in the cafeteria and even in the library, but for the first time after graduation they will collide in an unexpected way because "Home is wherever you are"


	2. 5AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We discover something about Oliver

Song: 5AM - Amber Run

OLIVER

 

Plop.

Plop. Plop.

Raindrops, this is the only noise that my ears begin to perceive momentarily while my eyelids fight against the impulse of my brain to remain hopelessly closed despite my mind is starting to fuel now by some abundant minutes.

Plop.

Plop, plop, plop.

I try to ignore again the annoying noise that now seems to be clearly echoing in my head as if they had just lit a firework, as in an annoying ugly dream from which you absolutely want to wake up, this obviously before being able to convince myself of the opposite.

Plop.

Plop, plop, plop, plop.

"Fuck" I swear between my teeth now accustomed to this kind of good morning not at all pleasant, cursing the second after trying to open my mouth as a stabbing pain hits my temples so that suddenly. It is as if any thought passing from my mind that is then transferred to my lips is absolutely harmful, which I recognize would not marvel me at all.  
I lazily lift a hand towards some tufts of hair that now fall badly on my forehead, pressing as much as possible on the painful point while I pray and invoke to me any God who can put an end to this hammering torture as soon as possible. I turn then, trying in vain to be able to focus on the surrounding environment despite the fact that any type of image now seem to me out of focus.The first thing that manages to catch my attention is the soft soil on which I was "comfortably" stretched out for all this time that otherwise contaminated my white shirt of soil and something green that I can identify as grass, I hope nothing else.  
"Well, I'm in a fucking lawn, I don't know at what fucking hour in the morning, a team of workers decided to get drilled right now in my head and now to the list of my misfortunes I might add that it's also raining!" I exclaim between me and me in a rather disdainful tone, abandoning my back to the soft surface of the lawn while my mind begins to make a huge effort, frantically trying to remember what the hell happened to me last night. Despite all my effort that does nothing but increase the colossal drunken headache and probably due to the cold night I can not draw any logical conclusion, so I wake up from my semi-trance state only because of the rather noisy rumble of a thunder.  
"Oh great!"  
I raised my eyes to the sky immediately, rediscovering it the same shade of gray that I had observed too many times from the window when as a child I locked myself in the world of my room and ended up spending hours watching the rain fall, imagining to be less alone snd wanting to fall free like raindrops without ever crashing into the ground, in an adrenaline descent that never ends. Now, however, the rain that I once liked so much and that until now has done to moisten properly, it begins to fall thick in the vicinity of a storm. I suddenly get up from the ground by force on one arm because the other does not really want to collaborate from the moment he holds my head that if it is humanly possible now continues to pulsate even more. I stagger slightly once after standing up, finding a certain stability only a few minutes after having fixed a fixed point with equal difficulty, succeeding for divine goodness to turn on myself just to be able to understand how to leave and remember where I put the car. Something, however, attracts my attention during the tour, or rather someone, someone who is lying and sleeping exactly like me a few hours ago and seems to be a girl, to which I approach almost cautious for fear of being able to end up sitting on the lawn again, examining for a second the outline of his figure in order to identify the next second who it is.  
"Fucking Kim" I mumble while some black hairs enter my visual range, recognizing her now as the architect of what must have been the party of the year judging by the fact that behind her and then more or less for another 100m There are scattered cans, colored plastic cups, undefined bottles, undefined liquids and even some undefined bodies. In a moment something flashes in me, the memory of the previous night: the party now organized by a week, the girls, the beer pong with the friends of the Football team, the truth or dare followed by the undefined sex with Kim and the swim into her swimming pool in the back garden.  
I pass a hand through my hair, sighing heavily at the memory that meanwhile does nothing but make my temples pulse more, while I watch her little dress shrugged up to the thighs together with the red lipstick completely drooled as indeed all the makeup present on hers face. Suddenly in a sudden shot I reach out to her figure recovering with a tug from her hands what seems to be just my jacket, regardless of the fact that she could wake up at any moment while I watch her move slightly.  
"Oli" she mumbles then unevenly, sound to which I irreparably raise my eyes to the sky, ignoring my headache and turning my heels now knowing where I am and then lifting the jacket on my head in an attempt to shelter myself from the pouring rain.  
"Shit, shit, fuck" I curse, running as fast as possible and invoking any saint while I let the cold wind pierce my bones, filling my lungs while inhaling and exhaling quickly, the water now pierces my wet clothes making me shiver. In the meantime I try to recover the car keys that should be located in the pocket of my trousers, trying several times in difficulty because the hair soaked on my forehead excludes half of the objects from my view. Once I found the keys and reached the block where I usually park when I'm at Kim's house I immediately open the door of the big black suv that comes before me, rushing inside it before I can close the door behind me , throwing the jacket on the passenger seat while I abandon my head backwards trying to catch my breath. I raise a hand trying to pull the hair still stuck to my forehead and take an eye to the time in the dial of the car that marks 05.00 am.  
I sighed at that sight, forcing myself to raise the head from the comfortable position and then start the car, immediately turning on the hot air. Then abandon the head against the steering wheel waiting for the cockpit to warm up, putting in motion in addition to the car also the many thoughts to which I can not give an order.

"Time to get home Oliver"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people!
> 
> As promised I came back today with the first chapter that was ready, this is just the beginning of a long series of events that will happen from now on, I have lots of ideas and I can not wait to put them "on paper".
> 
> And what ideas have you made of this first chapter? and above all what impression did you make of Oliver? I really hope to have aroused your curiosity, I'm curious to know what you think.
> 
> Kisses!


	3. LUNG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Oliver

Song: Lung - Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Oliver

I cross the threshold of my house in the most silent way I know, entering in silence as if I was a thief while I make my way into the empty entrance, the only noise the creak of the parquet under the plants of my feet. The aseptic white walls, the black and white minimalist furniture and some photos hanging on the walls: and here it is my house, or at least I should consider it though I can't do it.  
I stay a few minutes hidden behind the wall of the entrance just to make sure there is nobody in the kitchen, I know that my mother would be able to be sitting on one of the stools of the island at this time, while sipping her milk and puff one of his magazines. I ventured a step forward, protruding my head from the other side of the wall to face the kitchen that I saw empty and silent. I let out a sigh of relief and smeared forward, dragging myself towards the long stairs. Once upstairs I wish mentally that nobody can notice my passage along the corridor while I hasten to reach my room, the last one, not taking care of the fact that most likely I could leave a wet strip in the way even if I doubt that someone can notice it if not Camille, the kind cleaning lady who in all these years was a bit like a mother for me. Lost in my thoughts I almost do not realize I have reached the door of my room, hung on the outside still the small tag with "OLIVER" written in a disordered and asymmetric way that brings me back to that day twelve years ago, in which once I had finished my little room, I would have liked to hang it up. 

FLASHBACK

\- "Oliver Efraim Philips come back here with that tag, it's unacceptable that you can put it on the back of that door, it's green, it's not the same color as the whole house, what would people say if they came to visit us, that we allow to our son to do everything he wants?

\- "But mom, I built it for me, it's to show everyone that this is my room and nobody can get in"

At that point she had looked at me, with an almost distressed look as she sighed and then slipped the tag from my hands.

"You're still a child Oliver, who do you want to come into your room with permission?"

And she left taking my tag with her.

END FLASHBACK

I shake my head, remembering to have put it back at least a hundred times, including the last one with the glue after finding the hiding place where my parents held it: they finally gave up, they could not take it away even if they wanted to. It was my little victory, perhaps one of the few that I still keep exposed as a reminder.  
Placing the hand on the handle, I enter into my bedroom and finally to the vision of my bed I can not help but sigh calmly, closing the door behind me while I make a few steps. First of all I take off my shoes, throwing them in a bad way while I hold a precarious balance on one foot and then grab the flaps of my white shirt or second skin, pulling it up so I can get rid of it quickly. Two minutes later I am bare-chested only with my jeans that at the moment discover the light V of my abdominals but I soon decide to take them off because they are just as wet as my shirt. Left alone in boxers I finally abandon myself on the soft mattress, noting that it is half past five in the morning and I have barely an hour and a half before I have to get up again for school, I raise my eyes to the ceiling and sigh, closing them as soon as I lay my head on the pillow, abandoning myself into a dreamless sleep.  
I wake up suddenly just an hour later, turning around to check the alarm clock, almost disappointed to find out that I could've sleep a bit more while I hear slight noises coming from the hallway and the kitchen a sign that probably everyone must have woken up now. I don't want to go down, I don't want to have my breakfast accompanied by their fake smiles and their silence, so I decide to stay in bed until the alarm rings, contemplating the ceiling for the first five minutes. Then my eyes wandered to the countless photos framed on the wall and scattered all over the room, my fifth birthday: a real and huge catastrophe worse than a Greek tragedy, my father that promised to be there for then calling my mother saying her that for a work appointment he would have arrived late, he never came. And so it happened every year, from the fifth to my fifteenth birthday because I later decided that I had enough to celebrate a day that really did not care to anyone but me.  
Christmas: I was maybe six years old but I remember it as if it were yesterday, I was alone. The crackling fire in front of me, the Christmas tree completely strewn with gifts of all kinds and the computer from which thanks to Camille I communicated for a few minutes with my parents in New York who were doing "working holidays", at that moment I didn't care that there was Camille next to me to prepare the turkey and keep me company, I didn't care there was a tree full of gifts waiting for me, God only knows how much I wanted my mom and dad.   
My first day of school: That was definitely the most embarrassing of my life while the family driver made room in the parking lot full of students with a black Escalade in which of course I was there, alone, I will never forget the eyes out of their sockets and the looks of some envious while meanwhile I just wanted to feel like all the other children, safe accompanied by their parents, just a normal child.  
All the rest of the photos then are a succession of beautiful and ugly memories, some with Mason and Jared by now my best friends since the middle school, historical friends of my family, photos of the football team, photos of some old flame and unleashed party that reminds me of the few but beautiful memories to which I am bound and to which I hold on when reality slaps my face reminding me that I have grown up alone, my nature has been that of being alone until I have decided that things would have changed.  
The deafening sound of the alarm clock brings me back to reality before I can extend a hand and crash it on it so I can put an end to the noisy torture, just in time to hear a faint knock on my door.

"Oli" Camille whispers softly, while meanwhile pokes his head inside the room, stopping to observe me with a sympathetic look.

"Come on, cheer up, it's time to have breakfast" to this statement I nod, giving her a slight smile despite my morning irritability and then lazily crawl up with my back from the comfortable mattress, immediately bringing a hand in that ruffled nest I dare to call hair to be able to move them from my view, I use the next ten minutes to get out of bed, capitulate in my bathroom, take a hot shower and put on me something absolutely casual but warm enough.  
When I arrive in the kitchen the atmosphere is always cold and silent while I wave to all the family members: to my father with his nose hidden behind a newspaper and his usual cup of coffee and also to my mother who is intent on consume her breakfast in silence after having addressed me one of his pulled and composed smiles, I go around the island exclusively to retrieve the dish containing my breakfast, committing myself to finish it as soon as possible. I never had anything against silence, I always thought that in the right moments it was even pleasant but since I grew up in this house, I never hoped so much that the silence was broken to be transformed into something more: a greeting, a question, a reproach, anything, I suddenly lift myself from the stool, leaving my half-full plate still on the island and then turning away from everyone.

"I'm going to school" these are the only words that come out of my lips before I can quickly walk towards the entrance, recovering my Varsity Jacket with the hat of the same colors that I wear. I reach the front door and go out, breathing a sigh of relief as if I had just come out of a prison of strength and finally let the cold air of December clear my breath as I make my way onto the hyper-curved pavement of my driveway, sensing the phone vibrating in the back pocket of my jeans as a sign I just got a message.

-What's up bro, are you alive? you disappeared last night, did you had fun with Kim? My parents cut me the food and seized me the car after discovering by the police that I was running naked in front of the house yesterday night. Are you coming to get me, breakfast and school? -J

At the sight of this message I can't help but raise my eyes to the sky and inevitably bend the lips in a smile as I slip into the cockpit of my car and start the engine.

I'm coming asshole. -O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people!
> 
> Well I'm alive and I'm here with the second chapter, if you're wondering when the poor Elio will come, do not despair because the next chapter will be all his, in the meantime let me know if you liked it and what you think.
> 
> We have discovered a little more about Oliver's past and his family but there is still a lot of his character to come out.
> 
> If the story is starting to involve you I hope you can leave a comment, ask me some questions or just put some kudos, know that the next update will not be far away, I have not yet established a specific day a week more than anything because I still haven't trusted readers so I'll just post as soon as the chapters are ready.
> 
> Kisses


	4. NOBODY KNOWS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are finally with Elio p.o.v

Song: Nobody knows - Autograf feat WYNNE

ELIO

Morning, the moment that most of all I prefer of the whole day. If for others the night is certainly a moment to be alone with oneself, for someone like me who has not a lot of peace in general, the night is certainly the least peaceful moment of the day in my house. Taking advantage of the fact that even the entrance of some rays of sunlight can wake me up, at the first light of dawn I already have my eyes wide open and I'm contemplating the idea of a hot shower. I could take advantage of the silence to be able to read some passage from one of my favorite books and enjoy my morning peace for an abundant hour before having to give my presence to that cage of gossip, prejudices and scoop that is my school. I think it's good, (contrary to what many say) the fact that in any context of my life I have always been able to communicate with books and with Nick, my only best friend ever.To be popular in that fervent den of vipers or to point out to me would be like stripping myself during the lunch break, an idea to which honestly I have never felt attracted. Lost in my thoughts distractedly I grab the old book that I put on the ground last night, stretching a hand out of the covers without too much effort because in my little bed there is barely room for me, I sigh happy only at the sight of its worn and decidedly dusty cover while I caress with my fingertips each page underlined and re-emphasized and touch the consistency of the rough paper concentrating on the smell of used, of precious: Anna Karenina, one of my most precious volumes, if only I could preserve it forever and be able to defeat the wear and tear of time I would have done it without a doubt as I read and reread those steps in which I had reflected so many, too many times.

"It was as if all those traces of his past had grabbed him saying:".

And there was nothing more true that it concerned me if not these fifty-eight words enclosed between two very simple quotation marks of which I would treasure forever, rereading them and learning them from memory day by day until they are impressed as one of those images that you set for too much time, just to be able to touch the fine line between the immense solitude of which I have always been fed and the immense desire that things, one day, far from here can take a different turn from the one they have now.  
I let myself go for a second to a sigh and slightly frustrated sigh before I could hear a very dull noise coming from downstairs that makes me jump at once, making my eyes wide open at the thought that someone may have woken up earlier than expected and be ready to ruin my peace, I suddenly get out of bed almost tripping over the blanket while I grab my book and once I stand up I lift the mattress slightly, putting it together with the rest of my precious collection where nobody could ever find it, then I hasten to grasp the material in a rather sudden way to take a shower and change for school, approaching the strictly closed door of my room to be able to open it in the most silent way I know while I look carefully at the outside, checking that there is no one in the corridor even if I doubt my mother would be able to get there on her feet, so I hasten to leave the room by closing the door and sneaking into the bathroom.  
Exactly ten minutes later I'm ready with a silly sweater of the same shade of my eyes and jeans almost worn down to my knees while I'm getting out of the bathroom on tiptoe and retrieve the folder in my room, checking that there is the need for the lessons of the day and especially one of my books for lunch or moments of total boredom and despair, then I sneak into the corridor, walking as fast as possible to reach the door before I could stop right in front of the living room where Phil, my new mother's toy lies literally helpless between the sofa and the carpet, with an open mouth and a quite disgusting burr in the middle of the mess of bottles definitely drained last night. I shake my head as I walk through the jungle that I dare still call home and finally reach the penultimate step before I can reach the door: the kitchen, I initially try to go unnoticed by the time the crockery noise I heard previously is closer and shows me that my mother is right there just a few steps away, I don't look up knowing that I haven't reached my destination but I know, at the exact moment when the noise ceases that she will turn to me.

"Mon petit" she mumbles with the voice still kneaded by sleep and who knows what else, forcing me to lift the gaze that so much has tried to get interested in the floor until now, I look at her covered by a fine dressing gown that certainly covers the underwear that I am grateful this time is not in sight, her face dug by something much more corrosive than herself, her eyes greatly circled and her hair tangled. I don't remember her like that, not until Dad was still around before he could take the door and never come back, what can I know? what fault do I have to pay for this?  
Suddenly the stench of dirty dishes accumulated in the kitchen begins to nauseat me and I feel the room getting smaller.

"Don't call me like that, you know I don't want any more, I am going to school" 

I mumble as I clench both my hands into fists until my knuckles turn white, my nose and my mouth in trouble in order to let the air pierces before I can rush to the front door that I open quickly and then close behind me. I throw myself into a breathless race out of the rickety yard of my house knowing full well I would have gone on foot since I can't afford a car of my own, letting the cold air sting on my face as if I was cycling, and is regenerating despite some salty tears fill my eyes dimming my view.  
I run, I run and I don't think, I run without looking back, without looking at the house where I was born, the old anonymous neighborhood where I grew up, the streets, people, houses, trees, I leave everything behind me as I would like to do with everything in my life, reaching the school sooner than I expected because it is actually only four blocks away. I force myself to slow down as soon as I reach the huge entrance gate, taking care to pass the sleeve of my sweater over my now dull red eyes, I try to find carefully the figure of my best friend who, like every morning, waits for me right next to the parking lot, and it is there that I find him in front of his huge black Harley.  
Nick: how to define him, a meter and seventy-five of pure and statuesque caramel-colored beauty with raven hair, I could say that everything about him is raven, starting from his clothing and then continuing with his eyes and finally ending with his bike, if there's one thing about Nick that's anything but obscure, (unlike how many people think) it's his soul, his person, he is not simply the friend with whom I share everything since I am a child, but he is my brother, the person who has always taken care of me as promised, the good and generous person always ready for anything, the shoulder to cry on and the safety you can always count on, that warm embrace that wraps you when you need it, this is Nick for me, a corner of pure heaven in the personal hell that has always been my life.

"Good morning flea"

He smiles at me, with the warmest and most reassuring smile of the world before he can open his arms, studying me with an almost questioning look as I abandon myself  
in, borrowing some of his warmth.

"Good morning N"

 I whisper still with my face in his sweater, while I listen to him knowing I was discovered.

"You cried, didn't you?"

 He then looks at me questioningly as his smile tends slightly and it is then that I raise my eyes in his direction, observing him from below before I can nod softly and whisper:

"Yes, but it's nothing N, it's mom that raves as usual."

To this statement his body stiffens, I know that he is worried that something may have happened to me but I reassure him immediately with a look before he can sigh and detach himself slowly from my figure, starting to walk and then cross the entrance while I walk next to him.

"You come to stay with me today after school and this is not discussed"

then he mumbles these words, tearing me a small smile

"Okay mom"

I reply again, shaking him a bit because I know that he is smiling internally too, which is something I focus on before someone can attract all my attention.

And here it is: Oliver Philips for friends Oli, for the whole school in a few words a silent cupid, a concentrate of big sky-blue eyes that make you lose your breath, irremediably buzzing hair artly ruffled, perfect lips and full to the right point and finally a physique of adonis, with every muscle in its place and a scary height, captain of the football team, boyfriend or better, (that's what everyone say) of the captain of the cheerleaders Kim and famous, powerful and rich family in the city.  
For a moment I can imagine his entry at school every morning just as Jane Austen describes Mr. Darcy's entry into fateful ballroom:

"The fine features and the noble bearing, and the voice, which passed from mouth to mouth within five minutes of its entry, of its rent of ten thousand pounds a year." The gentlemen judged him to be a man of refined appearance, the ladies proclaimed that he was much more attractive than Mr. Bingley, and he was greatly admired for about half the evening."

And this thought continues to torment me while I observe him surrounded by those who must be his dearest friends and then by the usual row of girls that he ignores momentarily concentrating only on his cigarette, I wonder if underneath he is not so like Darcy is revealed two lines later in the book:

"Until his manner aroused a disapproval that reversed the course of his popularity, it was discovered that he was superb, believed himself above the company and did nothing to make himself pleasant, and not even his vast estate in Derbyshire could to save him from having a hostile and unpleasant face, and not to be worthy of comparison with his friend."

And so lost in my world made of books, I almost do not notice that Nick has gone inside the school after the sound of the bell and I stayed on the other side of the yard staring at him like a stupid while his eyes now are definitely on me. Suddenly the neck of my sweater became tighter and I have no longer saliva after all the times I swallowed empty thinking about where to hide the slight blush that now adorns both my cheeks making me feel Heidi, his gaze is magnetic and keeps me with the soles of my feet glued to the ground while in my mind I run away not accustomed to introspective looks like this one, different from the contemptuous or indifferent ones that I usually receive.  
There is something that screams in him, I can see it from here while he observes me with the most blue and lethal eyes I have ever seen and consumes his cigarette, his attention is mine but I don't know if I want it, I don't know if I can support it, I know well who it is and yet I can't understand how it can be so externally perfect and surrounded by frivolities and at the same time so enigmatic and mysterious.  
And in the end I run away, literally, I manage to look down and run away briskly while I curse myself mentally, in what trouble have I chased myself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with a new and bubbling chapter that is from the Elio's pov, from now on there will be many more, I will not alternate Elio's pov and Oliver's pov more than anything else because each pov will be adapted to the sequence of the story and based to events. No more talk, how did this chapter seem to you? I feel like I have put my soul in it because I am already very attached to the character of Elio that I'm pulling up. I have also surpassed myself with words and it is my current record even if I hope to reach even higher ones.  
> Little curiosity: I would like to know what idea have you made of Nick and Elio’s relationship.  
> Now I will stop ranting, thank you so much for both the kudos I've received and the readings, I also would like to thank didut wholeheartedly because she/he was currently the first person to comment on my story: I dedicate this chapter to you.  
> I'm so so sorry if there are any mistake but as I said before I'm not British but I'm doing my best to write my story in the best way so you can understand and enjoy it.  
> I hope you can continue to comment, vote or simply read, for any kind of question as you know, I'm always here.
> 
> Kisses.


	5. WAVES

Song: Waves - Dean Lewis

ELIO

The day didn't started properly in the best way if I counted that immediately after that exchange of looks with Oliver Philips I almost risked jumping the first hour because of my immense clumsiness and my inner conflict in full Elizabeth's style, unfortunately then Professor Millister had never been a fairly sympathetic type regarding delays, or rather anything, even the air his students breathe and again unfortunately I was one of those unfortunates and as soon as I walked into the math class with my breath short of the race, my heart still in my throat because of the last meeting, he didn't hesitate to glare at me.  
He lowered his plump, round, Harry Potter-style glasses down his nose with his plump hands before he could get ready to attack:  
"Perlman, what makes you think you can set foot in my classroom, during my class and moreover late?"

To this statement I couldn't help but mumble some bad excuse that however did not come out as usual out of my mouth, I just sighed only lowering my head to hide the usual blush, master of my face more than myself and so I waited, I waited for what seemed like hours in front of my silent class, the only whispers I could hear belonged to the usual "popular" section in the classroom, to which I was now used to. I knew I had not exactly all of them lying at my feet in that school and I also knew how to pass indifferent and invisible to everyone, unfortunately at that time I couldn't do anything but stay there, hoping to get sucked as quickly as possible from the floor.  
After this last thought, however, finally from the mouth of Mr. Millister came the phrase that I expected so much to hear:

"Come on Perlman, take your seat immediately and make a reminder, as the next time you arrive late at my lesson you will find the door closed."

"Yes sir," I mumbled absently while with my head down and very very quickly I crossed my class, reaching my desk next to Nick's to whom I preserved a dirty look in response to the amused smile, it was not time, thinking about me it was never the right time for anything, so I shooked my head and sighed out of breath before I could pull out the big math book that could have been made of concrete, resting it on the desk before I could open it on the indicated page on the blackboard.  
To say that I used all my energy to follow the lesson would have been a good euphemism but I tried it seriously, I tried so much that when Nick saw me writing notes like a madman in the notebook and nudged me I almost jumped making everyone turn in my direction.

"Oh damn, what's up N?" I whispered in a low voice, glaring at him.

Then he peered at me with his usual inquiring look that would be able to understand any of my mental state and mumbled in a silent answer:

"It's me that I should ask you this question, look at you, you look like a madman! I've never seen you write anything in the mathematics notebook that is not the date since we're young, any chance this could be the same Einstein's syndrome that has Mr Millister or is there something you're not telling me?"

And so I watched him, pulling a big sigh undecided about what to do: should I have told him about my meeting/clash, for God I don't even know how to define it with Oliver Philips? and if I had done it, should I have told him that the thought was tormenting me from the second I had entered the school so much to send me almost exasperated?  
And it was at that moment that I decided:

"I'm just nervous, you know I don't like to feel the center of attention, then I would like to prove to that hysteric professor that at least even if I arrived late I'm following the lesson"

I held my breath for a few seconds because I had never lied to Nick and this was literally the first time, so I wished I had been good while he continued to scrutinize me with those amber looking eyes, I tried to assume the most normal expression I had while with a slightly tense smile and big eyes I looked at him.

"Try not to stress yourself too much, because I know that you really don't really care about the others or about this stupid subject"

He then smiled reassuringly, smile after which I breathed a huge sigh of relief, for this time he had drunk it, I didn't want him to worry too much about me, he did it already enough and for sure if I tried to name him Oliver Philips he would have jumped and would have turned into the protective dad I know well, on the contrary I needed to understand, to see with my own eyes something for the first time without anyone preventing it, even if for my own good.  
So, lost in the blue eyes, blond hair and Pride and Prejudice time flew and at the sound of the bell, almost as if awakened by a long torpor I jumped on the chair, pulling myself up like a soldier grabbing the book and waiting for N to do the same by my side before I started walking briskly outside the classroom.

The corridor during the change of the time has always made me think a bit 'to the Jungle Book, Nick and I could easily interpret Mowgli and Baloo while for the other students well, you can imagine because I could swear that the jungle is populated as much as this damn school.  
The animals out of hibernation wake up during the change of the hour to walk in that forest that we dare to call corridor, in which to make your way to your locker you could risk stumbling in some branch or even run into some dangerous animal.  
In my case the most dangerous animal of the school was Kim, a meter and seventy of pure lust for every troglodyte ape in my school, for me a meter and seventy of white teeth (you can see them all the time, she laughs even when she should not) legs as long as a highway (since they are kept in training as everyone knows at school) and a dose equal to all vessels blood contained in an elephant of pure acidity that certainly flows instead of blood. I've never cared about her, as I've never cared about anyone in this school but I've heard so many things about her, especially about her questionable ways of acting as the captain of the cheerleaders team, so I've always been glad not to cross his path once.  
Evidently, however, this was not my day since immediately after putting the math book in my locker and saying goodbye to Nick that had to escape to physical education, I began to head towards the literature class hastily as usual, hitting involuntarily the wrong person.

"Look where you're going, loser."

A sharp and annoyingly shrill voice scolded me, forcing me to look up at her direction and then lower it again with the intention of ignoring her as I began to collect all my notes at the speed of light.

"With all the notes you have to collect, you will arrive to your class tomorrow if nobody helps you...too bad that the corridor is empty except me, I bet I would ruin my nails if only I try to touch you."

And so, after freeing a loud laugh, she shook her hair and disappeared, making the ticking noise of his heels echo throughout the corridor, if only with the thought you could electrocute someone, at this time for me she would already be charred. I let myself go to a heartbroken and exhausted sigh because of the wrinkle taken from my day and I lifted up, recovering my notes and I had almost a blow when I managed to observe a blonde haired guy just in time before it turned around the corner of the corridor.

"Elio, take back the reins of your thoughts or you'll end up becoming Humbert Humbert of Lolita, please," I said to myself as I ran to the literature class, again late.

My day consistently passed like that, the lessons flew because of my head literally invaded by a pair of blue eyes and an annoying noise of heels and in a moment I found myself in the canteen, queued along with Nick while we chatted absently waiting to be able to retrieve our daily free spice tray, in the meantime, I allowed myself to slowly wander with my eyes inside the mess hall, taking a quick look at each table, looking for that blue look almost like an involuntary gesture.  
I realized that I had really desperately searched when after a few seconds of my rounds, my visual range framed the table of popular types, and there he was: mr. blue eyes. Immediately I noticed Kim on his legs and his friends talking animatedly about something, but my mouth opened immediately when I realized after a few seconds that those eyes were already looking at me,"fuck, fuck, fuck" was the only thought that passed through my brain at that moment while with a click that could have blocked my neck for life I turned to Nick who was babbling something about the coming New Year but without have my minimum attention.  
The blush on my cheeks now reaching my ears would have been impossible not to see even for a blind man, so I hurried to retrieve my tray from the moment my turn came and followed by N I rushed to the first free table giving the blue-eyed my shoulders still trembling, "It's over" I was mentally repeating myself while eating my lunch, trying to think of anything that was not my back going on fire. I replied to Nick assiduously as he talked to me about his plans for New Year's Eve before I could see a rather worried frown on his face  
"What's up N?" I looked at him with curious eyes, trying to hide the agitation from the moment he continued to look behind me and I did not have the courage to turn around.

"It's from the beginning of lunch that Oliver Philips stares at you and now I think he's just coming here"

I had suffered from panic attacks other times this is true, but at that moment something perhaps much worse than panic began to take possession of me making my eyes suddenly open and making me swallow over and over again before dropping the fork into the plate, the food suddenly almost up my throat, "Fuck I knew it, I stared at him and he found out and now he's coming in the name of rude Darcy to tell me that I have to stop bothering him visually," I muttered hastily in my mind as I watched Nick study my expression more than baffled, all before being able to jump at the sound of a hand that slammed something not gently on the table right in front of me.  
"Here, here we are now he will spill lunch all on me," I thought, allowing myself to slightly raise the look I had held down all the time, then crossing the most beautiful blue look I've ever seen, the same belonging to the reason of my daily torments: Oliver Philips, I swallowed hard, watching him silently with the look of a lost puppy as I tried to leverage on a bit of his pity with my mind prepared for the worst, I realized then that I had done everything wrong when he beckoned me to grab what he had left in front of me, which seemed to be a square card. I took a minute to be able to look at the card quickly and I realized it was probably a flyer or an invitation, I didn't have time to raise my head to try to ask for explanations because when I did, he was already gone, In his place in front of me there was a rather confused Nick who looked at me grimly as if to want me to extract all kinds of information about that damn card.  
At that point, my eyes were automatically glued to the object concerned and my heart almost jumped from my chest when I realized that Oliver Philips had just invited me to his New Year's party. I saw Nick peer over the other side of the table to be able to read in turn and it was as soon as those words left his mouth that I had the confirmation that I really hunted myself in a big trouble.

"What the fuck does that mean, Elio?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people!  
> Forgive me so much for the super delay, I promised I would have published the chapter within debt times but university has kept me busy so even with a few days late now here we are with a new chapter!  
> Very well, this chapter has amused me a lot and from now on you will see some good ones.  
> We got to know Kim's character better, and even if someone already could hate her, you don't even imagine how much you will do in the next few chapters.  
> In all this, I really hope that you enjoyed the chapter, thank you so much for the support, the story has already reached 270 readers and for me it's already a great goal because I imagined not being able to reach even 10, so thank you very much! know that you can comment, make me any kind of question, leave a kudos, anything to let me know if you liked the story.
> 
> Kisses.


	6. WHAT YOU KNOW

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of something !!

Song: Two doors cinema club - What you know

ELIO

The thought that Nick could have become a stone statue like anyone who saw Medusa touched my mind for a series of valid reasons: first of all he didn't speak at all and secondly, I think the only thing he could do was gasp and looking at me questioningly as if the ghost of Canterville had just materialized right next to us. Of course, I can't say that I personally managed to look more normal than him at that moment, especially because if I had done nothing but think about Oliver Philips all day, after lunch I could only think of Oliver Philips and his apparent invitation to the New Year's party, which was not at all a better omen.  
All this continues to whisk in my head even at the end of the lessons, N next to me completely silent while we head towards his little gem or, as he calls her, her baby. No, I definitely have no intention of saying a word on the subject and I continue to be certain of it until once I reach his bike he glares at me and at that point I am not at all sure that I can manage to keep my word.  
However, I cradle myself at the thought of being able to escape this speech for a while, knowing full well that we should first arrive at his house, so I arrange the helmet he passed me and after having hooked it, I wait for him to put himself in the driver's seat to be able to follow him, clinging to his hips as I usually do. And no, it’s definitely not Oliver Philips what I see just before leaving, watching us from inside the courtyard while smoking with his friends, I'm just too molded, it's been a long day.  
I close my eyes in frustration and then I drop my head against Nick's back before I can feel the bike go down as usual as we come out of the parking lot into the traffic. The journey takes twenty minutes and it doesn't help me at all to recover my thoughts to put them back together, I am absolutely not ready to face Nick, especially because I lied to him this morning and now he knows it for sure.  
The situation gets worse when we set foot in his house and he announces that his mother is at work so I have absolutely no way of being able to escape this, although I am still in silence near the door.  
"What are you doing, do you stand there or take off your jacket and join me in the living room?" he thunders, his voice definitely too serious for my standards.  
"Yes, yes, I was just ... warming up, yes" I roll these words from my lips without even realizing it, mentally slapping myself because of my low ability to lie. However, I decide to deliberately ignore my own bullshit as I quickly take off my jacket and hang it on the coat rack making my way into the living room like it’s my home, as well as the sofa on which I sit with my tail between my legs playing with my hands while waiting for Nick to utter a word.  
"Oliver Philips really? Congratulations E, I thought you smarter!" he finally exhales, the voice tone still flat and serious, making me frown due to the not entirely exact assumption, what does he think I accidentally stumbled into his bed like practically the whole school and now I’ve had the exclusive invitation? well, he is wrong.  
"I don't know what you want to imply, but know that I'm as confused as you about the invitation." I retort, my tone firm, trying to make him understand that I am telling the truth and perhaps also not to let him understand that I am omitting a small detail. But who do I want to fool? a look (intense for what it's worth) could never mean anything and I'm sure my Darcy in question has nothing to do with those romanticies like: "I saw you and you were beautiful so I invited you". I keep on babbling with myself, trying to cleanse my conscience for good, so if he invited me it's definitely not because of the gaze, I'm not at all avoiding telling Nick a detail if the detail doesn't matter.  
"Oliver Philips does not invite random people to his parties, nor the types like us." he spits, and this well..(although it’s nothing but the raw truth), hurts me more than I expected.  
"I know that Oliver Philips would never notice me even if I were the most beautiful girl in school N but that doesn't mean that maybe he couldn't have changed his mind about the guests, I don’t know, maybe he has a good purpose for the new year!" I now definitely agitated gesticulate, trying not to let all the confusion for the situation and the sadness for what he wanted to insinuate previously.  
At that point Nick lets out a sigh between the frustrated and the resigned before he can exhale:  
"Will you go there?"  
And yes, this was the last question I could have expected, it's like the million-dollar question, the question that momentarily makes your eyes widen and makes your forehead sweaty. Now, yes, I feel like Anna Karenina with her inner conflicts, like a coffee pot held too close to fire ready to let every drop of coffee come out.  
"Well I, uhm ... I guess, in short, technically it's the first party I'm invited to from around… let's say, a life ?! And I could well... I was thinking that... oh fuck, I don't know Nick, I don't I know if I’ll go to that damn party." I spit out more nervous than I wanted to be, I've never liked parties, well what am I saying? I hate parties, it was never a problem for me to sit at home and read. The fact is that I don't even know what is this little voice that it is unconsciously developing in my head and is screaming at me to go to that party and enjoy something for once in my life. It has never happened to me and when the awareness of all this strikes me, I find it even more difficult to admit that I'm really considering the thought of wanting to do it. Do I really want to go and make fool of myself and blend into a shapeless mass of apes and monkeys stoned and drunk as fuck? Yes, well, I said it, I finally admitted it to myself. It is the next realization after this one that I can't manage to swallow, the one that really sends my brain into jelly: I'm doing this because of Oliver Philips.  
And I'm afraid, and I feel guilty now that looking into Nick's disappointed eyes, I understand that I'm sorry for him.  
"Elio, what's the matter with you? You've never even remotely considered going to a party before. Then at New Year's, we're together every year, how can you think of giving up to go to the school's biggest assholes party hosted by the biggest of them?" And yes, Nick has all the reasons in the world but I feel confused, angry with myself and at the same time fought, and it is perhaps all this whirlwind of unexpected emotions that lead me to be out of myself. "You know N, maybe you're right, maybe Oliver Philips and all his followers are assholes that invited me just to make me a joke but for once in my life I want to do something for me and you're the usual selfish who thinks of staying alone on New Year's day rather than be happy if for a fucking time I decide to act like a simple boy of my age!" I burst, following the automatic movement of my feet that make me lift from the sofa still smoldering with anger, leaving a stunned Nick as I walk quickly down the corridor, retrieving my jacket before I volatilize out of his house earlier than expected.  
I know I have exaggerated with words, N was perhaps the last person that deserves to be treated like this, his behavior is due to the constant trying to protect me from anything, extremely noble action that I have always appreciated on his part but in this case, with all this confusion made me particularly nervous.  
I worry internally, walking briskly in the direction of the library, a few pages of one of my classics before returning to the chaos I call home will only do me good.

OLIVER

It's the smell of hot tea the one I perceive as soon as I close the library door behind me, imagining when I notice the counter at the empty entrance, that as usual Miss Smith is having her break on the back.  
“damned literature” I mutter to myself, suddenly remembering after warming up for a few seconds inside the old building the reason why I had to plant the boys immediately after the afternoon training. So I go lazily upstairs where I am sure to find what I need for tomorrow's exam and I am absolutely relieved to see that the section seems to be deserted, well, I'll hurry first.  
Convinced, I make my way through the shelves, trying to find the right book to be able to study that damn subject but something certainly more interesting gathers all my attention. Sitting between a column of shelves and another with his nose stuck in a book that seems to be older than my great-grandparents, there is the boy who stared at me outside the courtyard this morning.  
He seems to be really at peace at that moment as if he were in a world of his own completely estranged from the rest, the slightly long curls falling on his eyes which as I have noticed this morning are very green, maybe too much.  
I can't resist the impulse to sneak up on his figure, leaning slightly over his shoulder to be able to actually see what book it is that he seems to have sunk with no way out when the words come out even before I can think about it.  
"Madame Bovary uh?”  
And well, if I really had a camera I would immortalize the moment when his face rises in the direction of my voice and his eyes open wide, seeming even bigger if possible.  
“Fear, big eyes?" I exhale while amused I lean over to look at the book between his tapered fingers watching him shake his head in denial.  
"'Madame Bovary, interesting..." I continue teasing him.  
"Why by chance do you know how to read?” and it is perhaps this decidedly unexpected response that makes me curious at the point to turn around, positioning myself in front of him with my back leaning against the other shelf.  
“Well you could say that I am a casual reader, I prefer something else, anyway," I say rather smugly, curling my lips in a slight smirk as his almost lightning look strikes me instantly.  
I don't have the time to be able to formulate anything else because he is already standing, the book under his arm, the jacket badly tucked together with the scarf and his feet struggling to be able to leave proudly.  
"As I thought" he spits, walking in the opposite direction to mine, making me raise both eyebrows.  
"See you at the party, Elio Perlman" and the look he gives me before turning the corner is a mixture between the surprised and the angry, a silent "no" that does nothing but make me raise both corners of my mouth: what a terrible liar.

 

 

 

Hello beautiful people!

Here we are with a brand new chapter, what do you think? did you like it?  
I know I know i really missed for a long time but unfortunately I didn't have the right motivation to continue this story, I didn't believe in my potential and I was almost ashamed to let everyone read this for fear of bad judgments, but now I'm back with a whole new ambition: never let anyone make you feel wrong, always do what you love independently of everything!  
Talking about the chapter, you have witnessed the first dispute between Nick and Elio, discovering new sides of their character, who do you think is right between the two?  
In addition, finally Oliver and Elio talk to each other, ring the bells with me, from now on you will see some good ones.  
Feel free to comment and say what you think, again thank you so much for taking your time reading this, kisses!


	7. PYRO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with a little mystery, the New Year party is coming!!

Song: Pyro - Kings Of Leon

                                                                   
OLIVER

 

The Christmas holidays have flown between a lunch here, a charity dinner there, an endless series of very expensive fake smiles, presences equivalent to absences and obvious expeditions out of my house in the middle of the night to be able to reach my friends and finally escape from what seemed to have become the theater of my life. Then with various excuses to skip the countless dinners that saw me as the protagonist and spearhead of the entire evening being the son and the heir of the immense family patrimony of which nothing has ever interested me.

It was a Friday, however, exactly the evening of New Year's Eve that my father crossed the threshold of my room with the usual composed and indifferent air, something that did not surprise me at all, certainly not more than his presence right there in front of me from the moment in which, if not in very rare occasions he had never set foot in my room, not even by mistake. I immediately realized from his authoritarian gaze that he was surely going to impose one of his usual madnesses on the working environment, the company and so on or surely that he was about to give me one of his reproaches about my scholastic conduct and my temperament linked to family image, in other words, the only two things for which he has always addressed me. So I did not hesitate seeing him silently crossing his arms, raising both of my eyebrows as if to invite him to pronounce the sentence.

"We are expected for an important dinner at the Palace this evening, I wanted to tell you personally because I will not accept your lack of presence, not on occasions when the image of the family is in between."

Needless to say these words now redundant like bells did not surprise me at all, on the contrary, they almost tore me a sarcastic smile at the knowledge that we spent most of the Christmas holidays together only for strictly working and "family" reasons, so I didn't bother to answer at all, limiting myself to silently nodding before seeing him disappear beyond the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

ELIO

I had been crouching for at least a few hours on the windowsill of my room, my nose obviously sunk in one of my novels and my heart seemingly light as I entered Anna Karenina's harmonious lines, getting emotional from time to time when I reached one of my favorite parts and emphasized almost to the point of consuming the pages, shaking my head and giving myself almost a fool for my so illusory and imaginative vision of love that it certainly wouldn't have taken me anywhere in life except to cry with the sunken face in my soft pillow, something that has happened countless times.

It often happened to me to think that if love was the only problem of my entire life then I could’ve been almost half lucky despite my little luck in any field, and yet growing up I had discovered that love delusions were always an excuse to cover what it has always been my real problem: my family. Lev Tolstoy said “All happy people resemble each other, every unhappy person is unhappy in his own way." and I must say that he has never been wrong, many times I happened to make comparisons like those that every curious child does looking at other normal and happy families a bit like the Mulino Bianco one, except that reached a certain point in our own life we realize that the history of this family is a bit like Santa’s history: fake. We haven’t always been a non-existent family, I have consoled myself too many times in remembering that when I was little we were even if for a while, a family too, I simply believe that at a certain point Don Quixote decided to come and visit us, destroying our mill with its madness and then leaving nothing but rubble. Here, this happened when Dad left, behind him he left nothing but grief, despair, my mother and me.

I let go an almost exhausted sigh from my own thoughts and left my forehead against the glass of the icy window, letting the book fall on my knees and then losing myself to observe the snowy landscape outside. Now that I think about it, I believe it has never stopped snowing since Christmas Eve, as long as I can talk about Christmas for myself, I haven't received any gifts of course, I haven't seen or heard Nick from that fateful quarrel and I doubt he will write to me even if it’s to know if I survived New Year, I have only limited myself to reading, sleeping, eating something and gathering my mother from the floor or from the sofa, nothing different from the usual. I found myself feeling more alone and bored than usual so much that I almost couldn't wait for that party to arrive to be able to get rid of the usual heavy thoughts, and I didn't have to think about it too much before I found myself turning that simple white card between my hands, it had been there on my bedside table for over two weeks and I hadn't dared touch it. I didn't know if the problem was that I wanted to go there out of boredom and loneliness or if I wanted to go there for him, the organizer as well as the owner of the house: Oliver Philips, and just as I was wondering about something that maybe I should just have to admit to myself, I couldn't not to notice a huge black SUV with tinted windows go at full speed right in front of the driveway, making me frown and immediately think of a person. I shook my head immediately as if to wake up from a dream and suddenly rose from the window sill, better get some fresh air.

OLIVER

It was at least twenty minutes that we were in the car in religious silence, my mother focused on staring at her perfectly manicured nails, my father concentrated between driving and answering his phone and I, (in a bad mood like always) was abandoned against the car window, intent on watching the snowy landscape and wondering what could be the reason for such a hurry to organize a dinner just the day before New Year, answering from time to time to Mason's SMS that obviously gave me a jerk for not being gone with them and the girls to Bowling. I shake my head by now surrendering to the fate of this evening before being able to return to concentrating on the external landscape, realizing that we are passing one of the infamous quarters of the city a few blocks from my school.  
Among that mass of sloping roofs attached to each other, it captures my attention a house that seems to be quite large but that in reality is almost falling apart and I wonder automatically who could manage to live there with this cold before I could clearly see a figure behind one of what appears to be the largest windows, crushing my face against the car window as if to better define the features of this figure. I recognize only a few features like the curly hair and the thin figure, but when one person with this correspondence goes back to my mind, I lightly squint in disbelief, trying to see better but not seeing anyone anymore, too late Oliver.  
An hour, twenty yawns and ten courses later I found myself sitting on my father's right side, at a table that could be formed by at least twenty high-ranking people with a stink under their noses that do nothing but talk about work, business, money, company, appointees, responsibilities and then still in the loop, consulting me from time to time with uncomfortable questions such as "How do you intend to carry on your father's empire?" "Are you aware of how business is going?" "Will you find a woman worthy to stand by your side?" questions that I was eager to answer with the best of my fake smiles and a pre-printed phrase that seemed to just come out of one of my father's phone calls, having fun almost playing the good boy of good family who actually takes them all for fools.  
Something in that flurry of boring talks between one course and another caught my attention: the name of one ex former colleague of whom they talked almost stealthily as if it were a taboo subject, i almost noticed the nervousness of my father through his innumerable sighs, the incessant ticking of his leg next to mine and above all the innumerable looks he exchanged with some of his colleagues and with my mother. It was the set of all these things that made me suspicious, so pretending to be bored and disinterested, I simply played with my fork, moving the content of my plate here and there while I tried to listen to the conversation, inevitably raising my head as soon as I could hear the fateful surname of this colleague: Perlman.

It was inevitable to realize that it was my mother who betrayed my father’s colleagues who were present, saying that name which apparently seemed to burn their tongue like a hot dish, under my father's glaring gaze. I had already heard that surname I was sure, but what was so important behind this person so as to preserve its identity as if it were a state secret? I pretended nothing and immediately understood the situation I returned with my eyes fixed on my plate and a feeling of restlessness in my chest, I knew it wouldn't end here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people!  
> Here we are again with a fresh new chapter of fresh writing, in short, it is a chapter (as you will have understood) of transit that in reality, however, reveals to us a lot of things on which you can question yourself for a while.  
> What do you think Oliver's father has to do with Elio's father? and above all, what happened to the latter?  
> I am very curious to know your ideas, have fun and let me know if you liked it.
> 
> Kisses!


	8. PIECE OF YOUR HEART

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold fast!!
> 
> I want to dedicate this chapter to Nonna Universe because she/he was the first person who actually believed in this story, here this is all for you, thank you so much and enjoy!

Song: Meduza - Piece of your heart

 

ELIO

Saturday 18:00 pm, -2h at the party

 

Adjust the sleeves, button up the shirt, breathe.

"See you at the party, Elio Perlman"

Put on the trousers, lifts the zipper, breathe.

"See you at the party, Elio Perlman"

Put your shoes on, tie them, breathe.

"See you at the party, Elio Perlman"

I immediately rise from that position, sitting on the bed while I keep my face hidden in my hands and try to find the oxygen that seems to be missing, I concentrate to restore my breath but my heart beats wildly and I feel that panic it’s tearing me to pieces. I still don't know what led me to decide to challenge myself and do such a bad to Nick while I'm here to put on my best clothes, or maybe I know but I don't want to admit it to myself, opening that door would mean to see that I am still able to experience the kind of emotions that I have long denied, it would mean going towards something that is bigger than me and that would be able to destroy me in a breath, leaving me as always with nothing but my sorrows, opening that door would mean surrendering to the irresistible charm of Oliver Philips and I have no intention of doing so.

 

OLIVER

Saturday 18:00 pm, -2h at the party

"Come on asshole try to beat me"

"I won't let you win even dead Philips" 

Mason exhaled while we were involved in yet another of our basketball games in the garden of my house from the moment that we were not allowed to stay inside because of the catering and preparations for my party.  
"If you get to the basket!" I exulted before being able to take a ride on myself after having stolen the ball from under his nose, throwing it into the basket without the slightest effort under his astonished gaze as he shakes his head: "You’re always the same big-arm prick” exhales, snatching me a tasteful laugh interrupted by his statement that almost makes me stop in place, leaving me still out of breath with a slight trickle of sweat on my forehead:

"Listen, during the Christmas holidays we saw each other little and we were always with the girls so I couldn't ask you but now that we're alone why you invited the loser with his friend to the party tonight?"

I frown pretending to be rather perplexed by his question, although I know well who he is referring to and immediately after having kept this expression for a while I exhale with a vague tone: 

“There’s no reason, I needed to make a number for the party and he seemed the guy with the least cactus up his ass in our school"

"Well if you say so... you never had problems with numbers what, this year the row of Philips’ conquests has fallen?" 

Mason laughs then, stealing the ball from my hands again to be able to dribble a little 'around me as if he wanted to put pressure on me, probably unaware of the fact that I am so used to situations of this kind that practically all this tears me almost a laugh.

"Never had any problems with that asshole, I always invite the same people but maybe widening my horizons, something more extreme can come out this year"

I exhale amused, smashing him a wink and hoping that the conversation will come to an end while I turn around to steal him the ball and continue playing without too many hitches, running towards the basketball hoop and pulling it perfectly in the center.

"He will not come O"

At that point I turn around, ignoring the annoying rumble of the ball that bounces repeatedly and I put on my best smile before I can hold myself with a hand to the basket, curving my lips in a mocking smile before being able to exhale:

“He will, you’ll see".

ELIO 

Saturday 19:00pm -1h to the party 

For the tenth time in ten minutes I look myself in the mirror of my room, passing my hand through my hair still looking uncombed before being able to sigh heartily, the wide and fancy shirt put only on my birthday makes me feel ridiculous and the black high-waisted trousers in which the shirt is worn hug my hips too much and I almost seem to be the protagonist of one of my novels while I turnaround for the umpteenth time on myself undecided about what to do, it seems like I had to go to the house of my future bride. In fact, it’s this very thought that makes my blood boil, for whom exactly am I trying to be nice? In short it is clear, it’s New Year's Day, I am going to a party for the first time in my whole life and it’s normal wanting to be at least presentable, I nod to myself several times in front of the mirror convincing myself that this is the right reasoning and the real reason, deciding to ignore any kind of feeling that tries to communicate me the opposite while without thinking twice I disappear behind the bathroom door, trying to make sense of that shapeless mass I call hair.

OLIVER

Saturday 19.00 pm, -1h at the party

After what seemed to be the longest basketball/interrogation game in history, I finally come out of the shower while I get towards my already open wardrobe and without even looking I take a simple jeans and short-sleeved shirt because I already know that tonight the air will be unbreathable, dressing fast while I think back to the conversation with Mason wondering why he is interested in knowing so much about who I decided to invite, could it be because he noticed something different? even if I doubt there may be something to notice, I've always been curious and I can't help admitting myself that this kid attracts my curiosity.  
Meanwhile I lose myself in these thoughts, I am already dressed and I look at myself in the mirror for a few seconds, feeling rather satisfied, while I hear the sound of the bell accompanied by the vibration of my phone for a moment, so I pull it out of my pocket to see a message from Megan on the screen:

"I'm early I hope you're alone, will you open me? -M "

A message to which I can do nothing but shake my head amused, knowing full well that she would never accept a no as a reply, so I head towards the door of my room and then come out of it, heading downstairs to the door, at least this hour will pass quickly.

"I'm alone -O"

 

ELIO

 

Saturday 20:00 pm -party time

After having rechecked for the umpteenth time that the address on the invitation between my fingers is the right one, my eyes return to the majestic gate in front of me, returning later to the invitation and continuing to bounce between it and the gate for at least five minutes while I'm wondering what to do, what am I doing here? have I really come? I'm ridiculous I feel like Cinderella infiltrated at the party by accident and not because someone wants her presence and these clothes make me feel even more embarrassed.  
I watch my shirt for the tenth time, wondering why I decided to wear it and also I watch my hands that in the meantime have not stopped shaking for about an hour now, I'll have to decide to enter sooner or later or the party will be over and I’ll spend my New Year outside the gate of a home for rich people sitting on an anonymous lawn and maybe even wet by sprinklers.  
Eager to chase away this horrible thought after a deep breath I look at the gate and see an intercom clearly evident and lit by a small spotlight, I approach it and I look at the gold plate that seems to scream "privileged" with the words "Philips", so presuming that I didn't make a mistake without thinking twice I press the button next to the name and wait, almost locking myself in place while I try not to think about the fact that they might not even open up and leave me here, that this could all be a joke to make fun of me, pity though that I don't even have time to do it since the enormous gate in front of me starts to open with a slightly annoying squeak.  
Here we are, maybe it's not a joke I keep repeating to myself as I try to make my legs collaborate and make them keep pace with my thoughts in order to move forward in what appears to be the home of a lord.  
Everything in this house exudes luxury, from the large fountain positioned in the center of the huge open space with a statue of what appears to be a placid and relaxed Neptune, up to the rigorously maintained lawn as well as the vegetation and the garden, not to mention the structure that stands in front of me, so majestic that it seems to me to be on the set of a film, the walls are of a more brilliant white than the moon, the windows with their balconies almost as wide as two rooms of my house put together and the door, the large central door framed by two enormous marble columns that almost arouse fear in the proximity.  
Until recently I thought Oliver Philips was privileged in school for many reasons but now I understand well which one is the main one and while I look around advancing completely displaced, I can already hear loud music coming from inside while some small group of people is already outside drinking from their glass, chatting or just smoking, I begin to think that I will hardly be able to feel part of something tonight, not even of this very party to which also I was invited as a joke.  
When I'm in front of the door I realize that the door is half-closed maybe to give everyone the opportunity to be able to come and go, so I slink hesitantly into hell, immediately jolting as soon as a hand lands on my shoulder:

"Hi there you came then, Oliver was right"

I scold my eyes realizing the presence behind me, trying at first to understand who it is from the moment the music is at full volume and the lights are so low that I can barely see anything, but when I put him on in focus I realize that I don’t exactly know who he is, recognizing him as one of Oliver's friends and furrowing my eyebrows in amazement that he is actually speaking to me.

"Er ... yes, I guess I came so? .."

I exhale than in an almost incoherent way because the embarrassment of the moment does not allow me to formulate something more meaningful than this but I don’t have time to worry about it because someone else has already approached us and is taking him away pulling him from the shoulders so I look at him go away completely indifferent, as if he had never spoken to me, as if I had never arrived, on the other hand, I‘ve always said that being invisible is what I do best.  
I sigh and almost like a hermit I decide it's time to go into this jungle of bodies and to look for a quieter place where I can at least lurk to watch from the moment I doubt I can do anything else, so while I walk trying to avoiding people who dance, drink and almost procreate screaming and lashing out to the rhythm of music I cannot inevitably avoid looking around, sifting through my eyes what appears to be the great salon in search of Mr Darcy, perhaps accompanied by one of his conquests or by his group of apes and I really would like not to feel almost disappointed as soon as I can get close to what appears to be a sofa without having found any trace of him yet.  
"Remember, you're here to have fun Elio, to see what it's like to be at a party, it's New Year's, everyone's dancing and having fun, you're not here for that cocky asshole." I repeat to myself, reminding myself what is the real reason for my sacrifice tonight while in the meantime I am sitting at a sofa watching life passing me by and almost for a second I get stuck when broad shoulders enter my view and almost involuntarily swallow, grabbing the arm of the sofa with one hand to then realize as soon as "broad shoulders" turns, that he is not who I thought he was.  
After almost half an hour spent this way it’s getting really too much, I wish I had never left home, I would like to stay in my bed and read one of my books and not on a fucking sofa incredibly too comfortable in this house of nabobs while I’m almost taken by hallucinations because of the damned Mr. Darcy.  
"Enough now" I exhale, lifting myself almost impulsively from the couch as I curse myself for having made this choice, making myself space between the sweaty bodies while I try to pass and head towards the front door to be able to run like hell and never come back and it's not even eleven o'clock!  
Unfortunately, however, my plans do not go exactly as I thought because I am again bumping into someone who, however, promptly grabs me by the arm, giving me a slightly drunken smile:

“Hey, what are you doing, are going away already? you should come to the kitchen you have to drink a bit you have to relax” 

exhales than Oliver’s fateful friend whose name I still don't know, pulling myself away without even giving me time to answer, leaving me to think that he probably feels sorry for my situation given his momentum of "kindness", so when we arrive in the kitchen and we stop in front of the counter covered with shots and alcohol of all kinds I can't help but exhale:

"For whom did you take me, for your daily good work?"

Feeling almost strong and satisfied as soon as I notice the surprised expression on his face while as if he wanted to pretend not to have been hit, he grabs two shots in his hands giving one to me that I grab with hesitation and holding one for himself.

"..Cheers"

he exhales then gulping down the glass in an instant while I am still here holding it between my fingers, almost throwing me a look of defiance as if to challenge me to drink it and to silently hold that visual confrontation that he is creating, to which taken by a surge of anger and courage I bring the glass to my lips imitating him and swallowing all its contents, feeling my throat go up in flames and my eyes become brighter because of the annoying burning and the terrible taste, all under his inquiring gaze and now almost scornful because of my reaction.

"So what do you want from me?"

In spite of everything, I let these words come out of my mouth, preparing myself for any of his worst answers while in the meantime he breaks down from the previous position only to imitate his previous gestures, stretching out a shot again before being able to exhale:

"I just want to know what happens to Oliver lately"

And after having said that he again swallowed the contents of the glass, returning to look at me as if he expected me to do it and I still do it because if this is a game I absolutely don’t want to lose against such an ape, not even at the cost of losing my vocal cords because of this infernal liquid.

"I'm not his friend, I don't know him, you should know what's wrong with him"

I hit him sarcastically as he gives me an almost fulminant look and starts to bite his lower lip nervously while inside me I begin to hope this could be a sign of abating before my flame of victory can be turned off by his hands grabbing two shots again, repeating the previous operation now a ritual but not before exhaling sharp:

"You are the special guest, not me"

To this affirmation my eyes almost come out of their sockets and all the alcohol I’ve swallowed up to until now arrives straight at my head as I almost feel like short-circuiting, deciding to drink this time only in the hope of being able to erase what I just heard while with my heart in my throat and not just it, i spit it out:

"You almost look like a jealous boyfriend, maybe this is the reason why you’re interrogating me?”

I decide to ignore why he thinks I'm the special guest tonight from the moment I'm not the only one invited to this party, maybe I'm the only loser to be invited or maybe not but this counts for less than nothing since the moment he didn't even bother to greet me at the door, the asshole.  
And here it is that to this awareness every piece of repressed rage against him emerges, but of course he invited me to make fun of me because he knew that a loser like me would come at the first opportunity and he knew very well that then at the mercy of the waves I could have made myself even more embarrassing by running away so he could have laughed at me and my failure the next day.  
If it weren't for him I wouldn't be at this damn party to embarrass myself while I'm here competing with diggers with his best friend (?) who seems to have a crisis of jealousy towards him, if it wasn’t for him I wouldn't feel so teased, so angry, so useless, so embarrassing and if it wasn’t for him I wouldn't feel any of this that I don't want to feel.  
I see almost black when I focus on all these thoughts and perhaps the straw that breaks the camel is surely the look of his ape friend who now looks at me as if I were a freak and offers me the umpteenth shot that I ignore, directly grasping a bottle on the table without even knowing the contents, bringing it to my lips and starting to drink, completely ignoring the burning in the throat that seems to get stronger and stronger as my eyes almost come out of my head and my head bursts.

"Woah hey hey easy ghetto barbie"

exhales then the asshole tearing the bottle away from me before being able to place it again on the table not before having taken a sip, at that point I look at him for a few seconds without really being able to focus him, the polished look, the amused smile, the expensive sweater already filthy, he disgusts me.

"Fuck you"

I spit out giving him a shaky shoulder while literally running away from that damn kitchen and without realizing I find myself again catapulted between a mass of sweaty bodies and probably as drunk as me, so I try to make room for myself in the crowd with difficulty because I need to find the fucking exit but I can't, I don't have the strength, it's as if all these bodies managed to crush me and move at will, the air is more and more consumed and I feel so hot that I feel myself going on fire, I can't watch where I put my feet, I can't look at the faces and understand their features, I can't even hear the music that fills the room because I only hear it echo in my head at a suffocating rhythm, and it is precisely at that moment when I turn the face gasping almost looking for air I see it.  
He is there in the corner of the living room next to the DJ, he has a white shirt and it is the only thing I can focus on, completely sweaty that sticks to him and almost as if he wants to challenge anyone who highlights the lines of his abdomen, her hair looks wet and they are all pulled backwards and now her eyes are even more prominent, her expression is serene probably she is having fun, her jawline is perfectly defined and covered with a hand with nails definitely long scarlet: it's not alone, but how could I not have noticed it?  
I was so caught up all this time trying to focus on it since I didn't realize that he's surrounded by his friends and above all clinging to a girl who is now dancing on her and being shamelessly touched and I would really like to make my feet move, I wish really close my mouth and look elsewhere trying to get out of this mass of bodies that keeps on dancing on me like I'm not, I wish I wasn't so helpless now but I am.  
they are just at the moment when their lips meet, their tongues touch and move together and the room all of a sudden seems to get smaller, my head turns double and my heart almost doesn't come out from chest when I realize that his gaze is now resting right on me, I swallow several times trying to recover the saliva that I miss and I feel the panic making their way in my chest, why me? Why are you watching me doing something so intimate? he is not provoking me, he would never be interested in doing it, because all this is upsetting me, he didn't show up all evening, I hate him, I hate these feelings so much I can't help but take his eyes off him, he's magnetic but it is so toxic that it will end up contaminating me, I know nothing about him.  
And at that point I run away, I don't know how or why I run, I try to make my feet move in the opposite direction, I get crushed, pushed, I can't formulate meaningful sentences to apologize or allow or anything else, I simply do drag from the crowd trying to get out of it as soon as possible because I know for sure now that the exit is not on that side and when I finally see the door I almost don't fall on my knees, dragging myself staggering towards it as I cross the threshold and almost start running along the entrance before my hand can be grasped.  
A strong, firm grasp that immediately triggers me like a spring and just as if I had just taken a shock I turn completely upset, wondering what it is that is preventing my escape again this evening, almost about to start crying before you can look up and notice that while Elizabeth fled it was Mr. Darcy who found her and who is now looking at her even with a rather perplexed or perhaps worried air?  
I can't stand that look, I can't stand it anymore and my head is spinning, the air doesn't seem to circulate through my lungs and all of a sudden everything I drank rises up my esophagus, burning if possible more than before and pouring out miserably at his feet.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck"

it is the only thing that my ears can perceive while I pour all the contents of my stomach right there in front of him, sensing some trickle of sweat coming down from my temples because of the enormous effort of the moment and I almost think I want to collapse at soil before I can perceive something in my hair, something very big that almost takes all my head, something I hardly believe are his hands but they are now holding my curls back so that I don't do a bigger mess.  
I hate him, I'm angry, I'm dissatisfied, I'm confused but right now I'm grateful to him for not letting me fall directly to the ground and make me even more miserable and when all this seems to end and my stomach seems to have calmed down, for now, I can't even look up from embarrassment, I just limit myself to stare at my own disaster and his shoes.

"Are you ok?”

He exhales then, and it's cold as if he were asking because he must do it, as if I were nothing but the hindrance of his evening, but I can't answer him, no sound comes out of my lips and it seems to me that my throat is even worse than before, so I just nod slowly, hearing him sigh.

"Fuck look at this mess“

He still says and I’m almost tempted to tell him that it’s what he deserves, that perhaps he is the one who deserved my vomit right on his shoes after facing me so shamelessly in the room and the anger almost come back to fit in me making my voice come out in a whisper:

"Nobody asked you to follow me"

And I know, maybe I shouldn't have done it, maybe I should have thanked him because he didn't run away like hell before and because he also kept my hair but I can't, it's stronger than me, I can’t stand the way he makes me so vulnerable only with his being.

“Strange way to say thanks”

And I hardly miss a slight smirk under my mustache because well, hit and sunk but I immediately go back to slapping myself mentally because something comes out of my lips that I couldn't even think of.

"I can clean your shoes, well ... I can clean up ... then I'll go home"

And I definitely betrayed myself because I know perfectly well that the Elio in me is fighting with Elizabeth to win but I can't even think about it too much because once again I'm interrupted by his words.

"Follow me"

"Follow me" “Follow me" “Follow me" where will you ever want us to go? Do you really think I'll clean your shoes from my vomit? I thought he had maids for this, God Elizabeth Bennet would never bend to that, but surely she would never empty the contents of her stomach on Mr. Darcy's shoes.  
So, I limit myself to follow him again with my head down not having the courage even to look around, hoping that no one has witnessed that miserable tragedy while we go back into the house and try not to lose sight of him as we pass other sweaty and massed bodies and I find it hard to breathe again so much that my fingers automatically reach the buttons of my shirt to unbutton it slightly only at chest level because alcohol makes me more daring and not only more ridiculous than usual.  
After what appears to be an infinite entrance, we finally reach the base of a rather large flight of stairs on which I ascend, holding myself to the handrail while he turns his back to me all the time until we reach what appears to be the upper wing of which only two rooms seem to be as big as my house, so I get lost in looking around, observing the large paintings that must have cost a fortune and antique ornaments, I couldn’t help but notice how impersonal it all is and decidedly bare, there are no family photos or what appear to be memories, only objects, a pile of expensive and accumulated objects to be shown off.  
I am so lost in my thoughts that when we stop in front of one of the last doors of the corridor I almost seem not to notice it, he opens it and the what appears before me is the vision of a bathroom, just as elite but still always a bathroom, so I understand that he really thinks I will clean his shoes and at this point I cross the threshold and don't even think before exhaling:

“Do you really think I'll clean your shoes on my knees?"

And then, finally, I manage to raise my gaze a little to be able to look at him for a few seconds, having to hold my breath almost to the communicative power of his look while he raises both his eyebrows sitting on the edge of the large bathtub as if to invite me.

"I never reject attractive proposals, I have a chance to see you kneel between my legs and it doesn't happen every day"

I blind my eyes completely displaced by his reply, unable to prevent a slight blush from forming on my cheeks almost automatically, because he would really like it if I knelt down? I thought he was more selective in his choices especially regarding sex, he is so superficial and hateful that I almost feel offended but at the same time, I can't help but feel a tickling sensation at the height of my stomach as if something dormant has been awakened at sudden.

"What, have you lost your tongue or does this language offend you?"

What does this asshole think? maybe he took me for a stupid? I'm just a little drunk and he thinks he can trick me with his usual asshole words just as he does with everyone he knows and almost the urge to leave immediately strikes me, if it weren't that I clung to the sink as if it were my anchor at the moment and his eyes are studying me so intensely that I feel them almost go beyond my skin and reach deep, it’s as if he was looking at me without any layer of clothes on and almost I get goosebumps because no one had ever looked at me like that, indeed no one he had never looked at me, maybe he doesn't even see me or at least not really.

"I want to go home"

It’s the only thing that comes out of my lips in a breath and my eyes almost don't fill with tears because I am filled up to the hair of all this staging.

"It's almost midnight and I'm dirty with your vomit, you too, don't you want to at least clean yourself before you go? I can clean my shoes myself"

To those words I sigh, pondering what to do while I first look at his shoes and then at my embarrassing and semi-unbuttoned shirt, unable to avoid feeling red like a pepper at the thought that he may have looked at that strip of uncovered skin all over this time and maybe just because he kept my hair not letting me make another mess, I nod slightly making him understand that we'll clean up before leaving.  
I watch him then fiddle with something behind him while he is still sitting on the edge of the tub and wonder how his arms must be long to allow him to reach the other end and grab some towels and what appears to be a degreaser to clean up, passing the first one to me which I spray on the parts that seem more damaged of my shirt and then a towel.  
At that point I turn my back to him, turning towards the mirror in front of the sink and what I see makes me scared, my hair is messed up because of his hands, my eyes are shiny and my face is white and I find myself wondering how I reduced myself to satisfy my whim to come to this stupid party, wondering if this is really mine or Mr. Darcy's here behind my back.  
He’s terrible. He has an unconscious power over me that I don't have on myself, and it just makes me more angry as I continue to rub my shirt with the towel almost on the verge of tearing it, hearing that he is fiddling too with his shoes, and the only noise that can be perceived in the room is only that of our clothes and our breaths, nothing else and it almost seems pleasant after all that has happened tonight.  
In the meantime, I am stuck with my shirt because there seems to be a corner from which the stain does not really want to come away and I continue to rub hysterically putting all my efforts before being able to perceive a shadow towering over me.

"Give me, I'll do it"

He exhales then practically stealing the towel from my hands and then grabbing my shirt and starting to do exactly what I was doing with more strength and all I can do is swallow, focusing my eyes on his hands and on my shirt while my breath becomes involuntarily heavier because of the closeness, his touch burns my skin through the fabric and I feel my knees soften while in a surge of courage words come out of themselves from my mouth:

"What do you want from me, why did you invite me?"

And I feel it, I can feel his gaze pierce my skin, look for mine as I seek the courage to be able to lift mine, I seek courage to show him that his presence does not intimidate me, does not make me effect, to show him that I can and I want to face him and I can almost do it for a moment, when raising my eyes I meet his for a few seconds that as I suspected were on me, his hands now stopped.

"Do you always do something for a reason?"

At that point I look around looking away from his gaze because I already need a respite as I try to think of a valid answer, he is trying to deflect the speech and I am not surprised, maybe there really isn't a reason why I'm here , maybe it was just a way to make fun of me and after tonight he can do it for sure or perhaps I’m still his good deed that opens his good intentions of the new year.

"Anyone with a thinking brain does things for a reason, but I doubt it's your case"

I throw it out sharp because it’s just what he deserves and immediately afterward I am tempted for the umpteenth time to leave, but it seems like his grip doesn’t want to leave me and so also his gaze that has me chained.

"It must be really draining to have something to do with you every day Elio Perlman"

And at these words, I hardly start to smoke with anger because can a human being really be so annoying? he knows nothing about me absolutely nothing yet he continues to babble and he is unable to explain anything to me and just when I am about to tell him that he is really a dickhead the sound of the door opening opens me away while in the meantime a figure (to me well known) pop with his head inside the bathroom, it’s Mason.

"O finally you are here, I fucking tried to find you everyw… oh for fuck’s sake did I interrupt something?" 

He exhales then putting on a languid and disgusting smirk just like him while he looks at me from top to bottom trying to find some detail to tell tomorrow to his friends to embarrass me even more but luckily mr Darcy decides to teach him a lesson.

"No jerk you didn't interrupt anything, what the fuck is going on?"

He thunders then glares at him with a look that almost makes me tremble too.

"Here's a little mess down here, nothing striking but I think something's broken, Megan is out of herself, you disappeared for two straight hours"

At that point I hear him take a huge breath, moving away from me as if he had taken a shock, leaving the towel in my hands again before he could look back at me: "Wait here", he says, which seems more like an order that an affirmation before disappearing behind the door along with that asshole.  
Perfect, nice shit new year.

OLIVER

As soon as I reach the floor below, the view that comes before me makes me want to chase everyone away and never give a party in my house again, the living room is literally upside down not to mention the fact that people seem to have tripled without my knowledge and I almost don't start fucking everyone off while cursing making my way among the people trying to figure out what could have happened while Mason follows me trying to explain to me that Megan freaked out with other people besides having drunk a reckless amount of alcohol, also telling me that she was the one who called other people almost as if to do me a wrong.  
At that point ,I no longer can see from anger and I almost don't start smoking from my nostrils like a bull while I see her in the crowd with her fluttering dress and twenty-centimeter heels, not even able to hear Mason from behind me trying to tell me to go easy in some way.

"What the fuck is on your mind, uh? what the fuck are you fifteen? who the fuck do you think you are to invite other people into my house and make a fucking mess? "

I spit out of me, observing her as she moves a strand of hair from her face and looks at me as if she's fallen from the clouds and then frowns and mutters clearly with little clarity:

"Fuck you Oli, you disappeared for two hours and you left me there without telling me anything to run after I don't know what, I thought I was more important than all this shit and even this house, I know you can buy back everything, don't do too many scenes”

At this point, I almost can't see anymore and I pass a hand through my hair completely exasperated before I can shout to her:

"You have to give a shit about what I can or can't do, I can do what I want, there's nothing between me and you, we're nothing, we've never been anything, you are nothing to me"

And here he is, coming up stronger than I expected his slap on my cheek, followed by his melodramatic exit:

"Asshole!"

She exhales then, literally disappearing from my sight as I wanted while I still hold my aching cheek with one hand, at that point, I begin to feel the fateful countdown, a sign that with Megan or without Megan New Year has arrived and certainly it doesn’t wait for my dramas.

"Ten"

The boys start counting all tight in the living room while Mason holds a hand on my shoulder, ready with the other to keep whatever the contraption he will make explode at midnight.

"Nine"

The music is lowered to make room for our voices.

"Eight"

Immediately a thought pierces the apparent tranquility of that moment, a thought to which I told to wait about half an hour ago in the bathroom and it is probably still there, so I scold my eyes and break away from the grip of my friends under their questioning looks, starting to run away in order to cross the living room.

"Seven"

My legs move on their own as I start climbing the stairs quickly.

"Six, five, four"

My step accelerates to the corridor, hurrying to reach the last door.

"Three two one"

“HAPPY NEW YEAR”

I throw open the door in a fit and the scene that I find myself in front of can only give birth to a very amused smile on my face: curled up in the corner right next to the bathtub gold curls is sleeping blissfully, the look much more serene than the one he had on his face tonight, his lips parted and his curls almost all over his eyes.  
I shake my head at that sight and think about what to do about it before being able to sigh, walking towards him to then being able to bend to his height, grabbing him from under his knees and from behind his neck and then lifting him, realizing only now how light and slender he is in my arms, walking out of the bathroom while a lot of noise resonates downstairs and the music has returned to play louder than before.  
I reach my room in a few seconds and with one foot I push open the door before I can approach the bed where I slowly lay his body, remaining to observe him for a few seconds while he sleeps calmly, wondering since this hyper intelligent and sarcastic boy began to make his way on tiptoe in my life.  
Then I reach out my hand, moving the curls from his forehead and then I walk towards the door, taking one last look at his figure before I can whisper:

"Happy New Year, Elio Perlman"

Closing the door behind me, ready to return to the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful people!
> 
> I know I really took my time to post this chapter but as you can see so many things happen and also I'm happy and satisfied with how the chapter came out, this is as far as I can tell the longest I've ever written!
> 
> I really want to know what do you think about Elio and Oliver interaction? and also what are your thoughts about Megan and Mason behavior?
> 
> Please make me know if you liked it!
> 
>  
> 
> Later!

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR SPACE:
> 
> Hello people!
> 
> Well, this is the prologue of my first story ever: "Home", forgive me already in advance if I made some mistakes even if I rechecked a thousand times (I'm Italian)  
> I'm too excited, I've been waiting a long time to publish my creation to which I think more or less a year ago, you readers but more you writers should know that it is not always easy to throw down all the ideas in the right way as we may have in mind.
> 
> Anyway, you have to know something about me: I'm a chatter but I will not go too far, I hope this story intrigues you, if all goes well I should post the first chapter already tomorrow while as for the other updates I would post a day a week as for example on Saturday, but I promise you that if I had to be able to write a chapter first I will post it without hesitation, (as a reader I know what it means to stay on thorns).
> 
> I wish you a wonderful day and for any questions and curiosity feel free to write me without problems, I hope to read your comments, your opinions and I hope you read in many because it matters a lot to me.
> 
> Kisses, itsblackness.
> 
> PS: There is also an Italian version of this story made by me if you want to read it feel free to ask me the link!


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